[out and about] 29 february 2012…

Oh, look.  A real snowstorm barreled through.  On the 29th of February.  Because this has been a winterless winter and because Leap Day doesn’t count.  Clever, Mother Nature.  Very clever.  I like it.

And, I liked the snow.  Not only because, well, I like snow and one of my guilty pleasures is shoveling the driveway.  But, because I have been craving a good roll in the snow like you wouldn’t believe.  Now, because I have neighbours, I have to exercise some modesty.  And, because I don’t have a sauna, I have to improvise.  But, it all works.  I dressed warmer than I usually would for shoveling the driveway, worked up a good sweat, readied my bathroom for its transition into a makeshift sauna, changed into a cami and (silly, turtle-print) boyshorts, threw on some flip-flops, ran outside, kicked the shoes off, dove into the snow, and had myself a nice roll.

Unfortunately, the snow was hard and I dove in too anxiously.  So, I came out with (quite vicious) snow burn and a few cuts on and around my right knee (and, later, the snow burn would leave splits-good times!).  But, it was so worth it.  If you’ve never tried it, I cannot recommend it enough.  It’s one of the simple joys of long winters.  Snow and steam are your friends.

And, yes, of course I wore my Finnish pride hat.  After all, Suomi invented sauna.

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]

[out and about] 27 february 2012…

(12mi run; snow, ice, gravel, tarmac)

Best.  Run.  Ever.

OK.  Well, maybe not.  Had it been longer, it would have been.  But, I’ll take it.  The conditions ruled beyond my own comprehension.  The closure signs had been removed from the steep, winding gravel routes and I was able to enjoy the mess in all its glory.  For every two steps ahead, I slipped one step back.  It was great.  And, by great, I mean that I was jumping, sliding, smiling, and giggling my way up, down, and around the path, treating fallen branches like hurdles and propelling myself off crests.  My god, do I love yucky trail conditions.  This was even better than all those times it has been raining so hard that I had the trails to myself and was able to sing along to David Bowie’s “Modern Love“.  Had my computer not had its meltdown and my iPod (still) had the song on it, I would have gone for it.  As it did not, I was left to enjoy running through the woods to Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf“.  I was fully expecting to be accosted by a painted member of a made up tribe of sexy Simon LeBon stalkers.  Like in the video.  Fortunately, I was not.  Quite possibly because I am not Simon LeBon.  In fact, I’m not even a man at all.  Or, possibly, because I was not filming the “Hungry Like the Wolf” video.  More than likely, it came down to not being a sexy beast, myself.  Or, something to do with reality.  But, whatever.  It was an awesome run.

I really have enjoyed both running in wintery messes and being able to utilise the cool routes all the cyclists hog in nicer weather.  I am not sure it compensated for not being able to climb this winter (as the bluffs had zero snow or ice on them, much less enough to dig my crampons and ice axe into).  But, this is a case of apples and oranges.  They are completely different beasts.  And, like apples and oranges, I love both.  So, at least I had one, eh?  At this point, I (really) am curious as to what next winter will bring.  Until then, I must keep using these amazing trails.  And, that means getting back on a bike.  Which I have been avoiding for years (for many ridiculous reasons-the primary ones being that I like to run and I’ve developed a fear of hitting a snake).  The bar has been raised by these runs.  And, I cannot imagine how cycling could possibly be as fun.  Go ahead, prove it can be, mister…bicycle…man…inanimate…object…thing.  Yeah.

Everyone hide your diamonds and babies.  I am (already) showing signs of messy trail withdrawal.

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]

[out and about] 22 february 2012…

(8mi run; snow, ice, gravel, tarmac)

Right.  So, I am (officially) a winter running convert.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  Before anyone gets too excited or smug, there is one teensy-weensy problem with this.  Yes, unfortunately, the park reserve I frequent is rerouted for snowmobiling, Nordic skiing, and snowshoeing through typical winters.  So, as I remain opposed to winter running on streets (seriously, it’s dangerous and makes drivers nervous-so, stop acting like it’s your right to trot in the middle of traffic just because your ass is spectacular), I have no idea where I will get my fix next season.  But, I guess I will figure that out as I go.

Until then, remember that mini-snow storm that trashed the roads and gave me some good sideways action?  Well, it stuck to the trails.  The result was a delightfully tough run.  And, well, just look at the scenery…

Chatting with the owner, I learned that the bicycle is named Henry.  They were flattered that I wanted to photograph Henry, leaning against the rails of that old, wooden, snow-covered bridge (who wouldn’t want to?!).  In turn, I was flattered that they were flattered.  Then, for the first time ever, I started to wonder if I should cave to carrying some sort of cards.  So that people don’t just think I’m randomly taking pictures of my surroundings out of insanity and so that they can see where the results end up.  But, I guess I just don’t feel like my stuff is worth mentioning.  I’m (still) shocked that anyone reads the crap I put out there (seriously-thanks!).  Anyway, file this under Interesting Trail Encounters.

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]

[out and about] 21 february 2012…

Never have I spent so much time, sliding sideways.

Now, you may be wondering how the hell this happened.  After all, I’ve stated my guilty pleasure in mastering car control in shitty conditions over and over and even wrote some winter driving tips (last year).  Simple.  This has been a warm winter.  But, it is (still) winter.  This translates to a warm ground and cold precipitation, forming an icy bond.  On this (particular) morning, temperatures were hovering around freezing.  Then, rain started to fall.  In turn, that rain turned to snow in the wee hours.  The result?  A slushy, slippery mix and difficult to maneuver ruts.  Just heading out onto the roads was a losing battle.  But, whoever said that losing (always) sucks?  I had a blast.  Because there hasn’t been much snow, I’ve not had much time behind the wheel in these conditions (this winter).  So, to find myself thrown into s seriously ugly situation…it was a pleasure.  I won’t lie, a few “whoa-whoa-whoa”-s escaped my lips early on as the slippery ruts started leading my car toward deep, swampy ditches.  But, the roads were empty and it turned out OK.  In fact, I had to smile as I was sliding around the tight, guard railless, lakeside turns, as I had watched and shared some aerial footage from the 2012 Rally Sweden just days before.  It was a tad reminiscent.  The surroundings, that is.  I was moving weather-appropriately in a small SUV.

You win this one, Latvala.  But, just know that I’m (diabolically) raising an eyebrow.

Now, one would think that the hilly, twisty, rural part of this route would be the most challenging part of my commute.  But, one would be wrong.  See, whoever designed the roads around the industrial area (en route) had never operated a motor vehicle or encountered snow before.  At least, this is my assumption.  Because, everything about the curves and grades of the stretch turn it into a Slip ‘n Slide whenever snow hits.  Every sign along the way is pointless, as they are (always) knocked down (I’ve even run over one that had been knocked down and concealed by snow).  In all my years of driving in nasty weather, I have had three mishaps.  The first landed me in a snowbank during an ice storm while driving a VW Golf (self explanatory).  The second was a black ice incident.  It was early spring, I was driving too fast, I went into a deep ditch.  Amazingly, I floored my way right back up and out.  An act of aggressive stupidity?  Maybe.  But, I got out.  The third happened along this very stretch while driving home from work in a blizzard.  Moving at a snail’s pace (knowing this stretch of road is a disaster in far better conditions), I hit a skid and met the median.  Hard.  I was positive I had destroyed my right-front wheel.  But, it was bad out there, I had no desire to risk getting hit by another car while investigating, I just wanted to go home.  On whatever wheels I may or may not have had.  Fortunately, there was no damage.  But, I came away with my most compelling evidence (in a vault bursting with evidence) that this stretch of road is, well, just bad.

So, on this particular morning, I knew I was in for a treat.  But, found myself (pleasantly) surprised by the look of it.  The ruts were minimal.  The snow wasn’t as deep (as the roads I’d encountered to this point).  And, most importantly, there was no glare.  Then, as I entered a gradual bend in the road very slowly (clearly, this road does not have my trust), I slid completely sideways and headed toward the median.  Right.  I can pull myself out, no problem.  Except than when I did, I flipped the other way.  In a matter of seconds, I had slid sideways on both sides.  It was ridiculous.  Even more ridiculous was that I was listening to Peter Bjorn and John’s Living Thing-and the song “Nothing To Worry About” had just come on.  I had to laugh.  The initial slip was a shocker.  But, the rest was just…silly.

Sadly, by the time the work day had ended, the temperature had tipped back over freezing and snow had turned to slushy water.  Enough to terrify the large SUV in front of me into going 20mph below the speed limit.  But, nowhere near enough to need to.  Eh, it was fun while it lasted.

The Scandinavian Flick is a rally maneuver based on standard winter slide management.  Vehicular control over the inevitable.  Everyone slides.  It’s unavoidable and it’s OK.  As the old British wartime propaganda commands, Keep calm and carry on.  While you should never come away from motorsports with misinterpreted notions of ‘cool’ moves leading to recklessness (very uncool), it never hurts to take a look at the skills involved and how they translate to everyday driving.  There are methods to what appears to be madness.  Oh, and, the next time you hear me try to get out of something by claiming to be a shitty winter driver, feel free to call me on it.  But, know that I was just being polite and that it’s the roads full of panicky winter drivers that scares me.

(getting hosed with slush by the terrified driver ahead of me became tiresome. so, as there was no one else around, i slowed down for a shot. cool sky, at least.)

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]

[out and about] 20 february 2012…

(8mi run; mixed surfaces)

Sad fact:  if a trail is closed off by a flimsy, makeshift tape barrier, I will obey.  Even if I know that the blocks are (more than likely) inconsistent, with open ends all around.  Even though I am well aware that there is no (real) reason for it to be there apart from the park, covering their own ass after seeing a patch of ice or mud (this is the US, after all; everything you have ever heard about it being a lawsuit-happy country is an understatement of a disgustingly low fact).  I will not jump the barrier.  The barrier that is barely there.  That I could just wander around or duck under.  I cannot get myself to do it.

But, this is only because I suffer from chronic good girl syndrome.  And, I am freakishly passive.  Being suburban, the parks are crawling with enforcement officers, just waiting for someone to -gasp- venture off trail.  I would just rather not deal with their crap.  Becoming annoyed would defeat the purpose of going out and enjoying the great outdoors.  Plus, my stubbornness is off the charts.  And, though quiet to the point of primarily silent, I have a sharp tongue and battle-ready mind to match that stubbornness.  So, I try to take the path of least resistance whenever possible.  Trust me, it is for the best.  (I’ve been labelled ‘scary’.  I’m not proud of this.  In fact, it bothers me.)

However, this does not mean these blocks don’t piss me off.  They do.  On a grand level.  As I mentioned, I am a US captive (technically, as I was born and raised in Minnesota-a state the US tends to forget, Canada doesn’t want, and regarded as a Scandinavian country).  And, I have never been happy about it.  Even as a child, I was always out of place and completely detached.  A misfit without a bond to my surroundings, clinging to my heritage for identity (from birth, I have cheered for Sweden and Finland in the Olympics and backed Swedes and Finns in my favourite sports-I even sat through Ingmar Bergman films and choked down Christmas lutefisk as a kid; always reward yourself/cancel out the taste with lingonberries-mmm…lingonberries-and amazing Scandinavian desserts).  One element that bothers me more and more (about the US) is the constant promotion of a complete lack of responsibility for one’s own actions.  You get hurt, you sue.  Part of this is because we have a downright shitty insurance system.  Or, lack there of.  Which does make enjoying life a bit tricky.  But, the biggest factor is that we get away with it.  I kid you not, people have filed lawsuits after discovering (well into adulthood) that the crispy, inflated wads of sugar and preservatives that are Crunch Berries in Cap’n Crunch cereal are not, in fact, real berries.  If we get fat from eating fast food every meal, we sue.  If we slip on in front of someone’s home immediately after an ice storm, we sue them.  If our car does not achieve the maximum theoretical MPG reached in controlled conditions in extreme tests, we sue the manufacturer.  If we have a bad time on a vacation, we sue everyone involved.  It is (always) the fault of everyone else.  That is the Amur’kin way, folks.

Now, I was taught that if you want to voice a criticism, it should be constructive.  That the complaint should include a potential solution.  So, here is my solution to this issue of taking responsibility:

Identification.

Rather like donor cards or medical alert bracelets, there should be some way of identifying those who are willing to take responsibility for their own actions.  In my case, I know that the trails are dangerously caked in mud, with patches of ice under every few steps.  I know that I could slip, fall, and come out The Bionic Woman.  Running in good conditions has its risks.  Hell, did Heather Mills not lose her leg (after being hit by a police motorbike, of all vehicles) just by trying to cross a street?  A London street.  After spending so much time in the minefields of war-torn regions.  It’s like the dramatic Leslie Nielsen speech in The Naked Gun, when he states that every day holds risks in “…getting up in the morning, crossing the street, sticking your face in a fan”.  I know that venturing out on these trails, in these conditions, is a risk.  But, this is what I do (hi, welcome to my blog of graceful misadventures).  I enjoy the extra challenge of pushing myself and coming out uninjured.  That is the goal.  Survive it with as few battle scars as possible.  Like life.

As that classic Volkswagen slogan goes, On the road of life, there are passengers and there are drivers.

I accept the risks.  Now, give me my license to live and hand me my stinky shoes.  I’ve got exploring to do.

(I find it impossible to believe that these trails could be any worse than they were when I last ventured out on them, just days earlier.  But, what would I know.  I only ran on them.)

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]

[out and about] 15 february 2012, pt 2…

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]

[out and about] 15 february 2012…

I am going to have to stop claiming that I hate winter running.  Because, not only have I been (thoroughly) enjoying it, the conditions encountered on 15 February 2012 gave me one of my favourite runs to date.  It was icy, it was muddy, it was slipping uphill and sliding downhill, it was spectacular.  And, I came away wanting more.  A winter running monster may be in the making.

As has been the case thus far, I headed out with a different type of shoe than I had used on previous outings.  All two of them (this year).  This time, I went with my trusty trail trainers.  When in doubt, when I am not (quite) sure whether I will be taking a paved or unpaved route, I throw on trail shoes.  Even though I require as much padding as possible, when it comes down to padding or grip, I will (always) choose grip.  Why?  Because, all the padding in the universe won’t help you should you loose your footing and a pull or twist ensues.  When in doubt, go with grip.  Well, that’s my take (at least).  And, I think it is quite clear that I am not an expert in anything and should never be trusted for any information or advice regarding any matter known to man.  A claim evidenced by my constant knack for choosing the wrong shoes.  If I go with street, I will end up off trail or on ice.  If I go with fell, I will end up encountering minimal ice.  If I go with trail, I will end up slipping and sliding on icy, muddy, messy hillside trails.  Which is exactly what happened.  Not that I regret opting to venture out on this side trail.  And, the shoes worked just fine.  But, if ever there was a need for my fell running shoes on my local trails, I do believe I found it.

My run started out as it usually does.  I opted for the unpaved route, rather than the paved route, knowing that the paved route would (still) have extensive stretches of ice.  And, even though I am getting into this winter running thing, I would (still) rather avoid those long stretches of repeatedly melted and refrozen ice.  They’re just nasty.  I’ll take the unpredictable mix of terrain, thank you very much.  So, the first 2.5ish miles were business as usual.  There was even less ice than the last time I had gone out.  Plus, my confidence was building up.  So, there’s nothing interesting to report.  Not that there ever is.  So, that should say a lot about how uneventful it was.  But, then, as I was on a paved segment, approaching a turn-off to a narrow, unpaved side trail, my squeaky hamster wheel started turning.  Paved-unpaved-paved-unpaved…  That unpaved trail has a decently steep start.  And, it looks quite snowy.  I ventured up a few meters and looked around.  I headed back down to the pavement.  I shot some photos.  I was balking.  With trained reasoning.

See, when the park added these side trails, they had mountain bikes in mind.  Although they are open to runners, there seems to be this mindset out there that running is for roads and paved trails.  This is made quite clear when one tries shopping for trail shoes.  Although I have had luck with Adidas and New Balance, and remain (pretty) loyal to Nike, the options are very limited.  If they are making them (at the time you need them) at all.  Sadly, the best bet will (always) be outdoor specialty (pricier) brands, such as Salomon.  Because, there is this ridiculous idea engrained in the mass public that runners are all suburbanites, waving to neighbors as they show off how fit they are.  Well, I run.  And, I prefer to run on deliciously unpredictable dirt, kicking up rocks, tripping over roots, and jumping over fallen branches.  But, because I appear to be in the minority, all the promising unpaved trails in my area are designed for mountain biking, so narrow that any encounter would result in someone getting angry, if not hurt.  Being passive and non-confrontational, I try to just stay off these routes.  So, even though it was the middle of the day on a weekday, and even though this trail I was staring up at looked as if it would be unappealing to most cyclists at this time, I hesitated.  Then, I went for it.  And, it was (about) four miles of evidence as to why I love trail running.

The route started with a snowy, uphill hike of a run, taking me through some woods, around sharp bends, alongside steep drops, up, up and away.  Until I reached a plateau from which I could see the trail rolling out, up again, and disappearing back into another forest.  It was picture perfect.  The portrait of what a trail run should be.  Although there was a little bit of me, wondering where this was going to lead and how long it was going to take, I couldn’t resist finding out.  And, where it led was more twisting hillside stretches, complete with ramp-like bumps so massive that I couldn’t help but wonder how nuts one would have to be to take a bike over them.  Which was followed by the urge to get back on a bike and try it as soon as possible (an unwise thought, as I haven’t been on a bicycle in years).  In my last post, I presented parallels between icy trail runs and Rally Sweden.  Well, one of these bumps (which concealed the trail beyond it-which turned out to be a sharp turn) was a Colin’s Crest.  So steep, such a drop, and covered in ice.  It was very exciting to just try to run over it without falling on my face.  And, it only got better from there, as the trail would start to wind downhill, with shaded forest sections of pure snow and ice, complete with steep drops, zero room for misstep, and a high risk for Latvala-ing the descent.  This was everything I never knew I so very much wanted, so very much needed.  As the snow and ice turned into (equally slippery) mud and worked its way back to where the loop began, and as snow started falling upon rejoining my standard eight-mile route (recall that the side trail was about four miles, for a grand total of 12 miles), I couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off that runners are discouraged from entering these trails.  Sure, they are open to runners.  But, when they are built with just enough room for bikes to pass through in single-file fashion, it is more than a bit unwelcoming.  Even I am a hard sell on the prospect of being run over by an energy drink-fuelled douche on a mountain bike.

Not that all mountain bikers are energy drink-fuelled douches.  They aren’t.  I know a lot of very cautious, very courteous cyclists who are tired of these bad eggs, ruining their reputations.  But, those bad eggs are the ones most likely to mow down a runner.  And, just to be fair, I am very aware that there is a hideous percentage of self-centred trail-hog runners out there, making life miserable for good cyclists.  But, the fact remains that these trails aren’t catering to a mix and that runners are the losing party.

Sad as it is that my time on this amazing route is limited, I am so beyond glad that I decided to venture out on it.  Because, it not only made my day, it reminded me that there is a reason why I get so bored and demotivated by runs on pavement.  I (really) love the challenge of a good, nasty, unpaved trail.  Plus, exploring this trail fuelled my urge to get back on a bike.  Something I was aware I needed to do (anyway).  But, was looking at in terms of it being an unfortunate situation, brought on by a need to take some pressure of my body, rather than an adventure to be had.  Now, I can see that there will be whole new ways for me to hurt myself.  Ways I haven’t explored since I was a kid, racing down hills, no-hands, crashing into swamps and all.  And, if that doesn’t pan out, I can (always) let my newfound side trail cravings override any concerns over being run down by a cyclist.  Either way, there may be some potential for all sorts of trouble on the horizon, after all.  Until then, bring on more of that winter running!

see more photographic evidence of my misadventures [here]